Marana Tha is lucky, because there’s a Rainbow Drop and a September Fyre – with a ‘y’ and everything – in her class so no one thinks her name is anything too weird. Maybe it’s kind of pretentious, since it sounds Indian or something like that, and she doesn’t look Indian at all, either from India or the ones that you’re supposed to call Native Americans or First Nations or whatever. Her name’s not Indian, though, it’s Aramaic, and it means Come, O Lord!

Marana Tha likes her name, likes that it’s a secret that no one knows except her and her parents. She pretends that she doesn’t, pretends to hate it, goes by Mary and gets angry when someone calls her Marana, but deep down she’s so proud she could bust. She loves the first day of school because that’s when the teachers are new and don’t know that she’s Mary.

“Marana,” says the teacher, and the people that know her laugh and look at her.

“Oh, lord,” finishes Marana Tha, rolling her eyes, and gets in trouble for swearing. She could explain it away, let the teachers in on the joke, but she never does.